


Not A Bit

by CaptainOzone



Series: And So, Brother... [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Angst, Brothers AU, Fluff and Angst, Félix's POV, Gen, Hawk Moth is Gabriel Agreste, Identity Reveal, Mild Language, Reveal, Sorry Not Sorry, alternative universe, cuteness, tons of headcanons in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7251886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainOzone/pseuds/CaptainOzone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes, being a brother is even better than being a superhero," says author Marc Brown.</p><p>Félix Agreste has been both, and he can't have said it better himself.</p><p>(AKA The Brothers AU I wanted to read but had to write myself when I realized this AU has a depressing lack of fic to its name)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Bit

**Author's Note:**

> This beast was very loosely inspired by qookyquiche's adorable and feels-inducing comic (found here: http://qookyquiche.tumblr.com/post/145562845320/umill-go-hit-myself-with-a-brick-now-idk-mehn) in addition to all the Brothers AU spearheaders on tumblr. Thank you for your brilliance, and enjoy!

Félix is nine, and he stands frozen in the doorway. 

Her golden hair is unbound and flows well past her shoulders, a little bundle wrapped in her arms. A slender finger strokes the newborn’s nose and cheeks as she hums Chopin’s _Berceuse_ , the awe and peace in her face melting the ice protecting Félix’s heart.

It isn’t often Maman looks so happy.

Her smile is infectious and brilliant when she looks up from the baby to see him lingering. “My lucky charm,” Maman greets lovingly.

“ _Salut_ , Maman.”

Her gaze flickers from him to the space behind his shoulder. In the span of a heartbeat, her eyes dim, but in half as much time, they ignite again, as compassionate and warm as ever. “Come, Félix," she orders. “He isn’t going to bite.”

“But he might scream,” Félix quips dryly, closing the door and approaching the bedside with due caution. The squalling that erupted from every other room he passed on his way through the maternity ward set his teeth on edge. He does not want to wake the little terror ( _ever_ ) if that’s what he’s going to have to deal with on a daily basis.

“With that attitude, he just might,” Maman laughs. “Now come here, love.”

Félix leans over the side as she shifts in bed, revealing his baby brother’s pudgy cheeks. The baby is awake, and he’s even smaller up close, if such a thing is possible. Despite his resolution to remain indifferent, Félix catches himself smiling. 

“Adrien,” Maman coos, “say hello to your big brother.” 

Big brother. It isn’t the first time his mother called him that, but it always felt surreal, like it belonged to someone else, someone from another life that was in no way connected to his own. Now…now it is _real._

“ _Adrien_ ,” Félix repeats, his heart swelling as he considers the little bundle. He can’t help but marvel over how _tiny_ and delicate his fingers and nose are. Fascinated, he tentatively reaches a single finger to touch Adrien’s little fingertips and nearly gasps when the baby wraps his hand around the digit.

Félix isn’t charmed. Not at all. 

And when Father finally enters, having completed his _very_ important phone call, he most certainly doesn’t feel a prick of resentment…much in the same way he doesn’t decide, then and there, that the kid will _always_ be able to count on his big brother.

No matter what.

~…~

Félix is thirteen, and he hides a smirk.

“See, Fé? Red truck, green tree!” Adrien explains energetically, pointing with a grubby finger at the scribbles he made on two separate sheets of paper. “Green, red!”

Félix pretends to consider the drawings for a moment, leaning in close before deadpanning, “They look the same to me. You must be going mad, Adrien. There really is no difference.”

As with every other time before, Adrien frowns perplexedly at his crayon drawings. “How can’t you _see_ it?” he asks, cocking his head. He’s frustrated, but he’s more curious than he is upset. Félix can see the gears in his little brother’s head spinning chaotically. “It’s right there!”

“Right where? I only see one color here…” Félix taps one page and then taps the other one. “And there.”

Looking up from her book with an unimpressed expression, Maman says, “Stop messing with your brother, Félix.”

“I’m only telling the truth, Maman.” Félix doesn’t even try to look innocent—acting is Adrien’s forte, not his—but he does pride himself in keeping a straight face. “I shouldn’t lie, should I?”

Maman looks even less impressed, but as expected, Adrien takes the bait. “Well, I don’t believe it!” he exclaims, clambering over Félix and bouncing back across the room. “You _must_ see there’s a difference! I have to show you!”

Father barely has time to remove the tip of his charcoal from his current design before Adrien launches himself at his place at their artists’ table, bumping over his package of crayons in his excitement. “Papa,” Adrien pouts, “Fé can’t see what I drew.” 

“He is colorblind, Adrien,” Father tries to explain, not for the first time. “He won’t be able to see it.”

Adrien, adamant that persistence alone can cure color blindness (an endless source of amusement for Félix, obviously), ignores the comment, places the red and green crayons in the exact center of a conglomeration of red-green drawings, and stares at each of them in turn.

“You shouldn’t tease your brother like this, Félix,” Maman scolds. “He’s trying so hard.”

“I know he is, and it’s a good thing he hasn’t discovered I have trouble with purple too, isn’t it?”

Maman’s eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare.” 

Félix smiles mildly and turns his attention back to his literature assignment. 

He becomes so absorbed in his novel he doesn’t realize how much times passes before Adrien comes vaulting back into his field of vision, Maman in tow. He did not even realize they left the room.

“Fé! Close your eyes!” Adrien demands.

Félix blinks. “Why?”

“Do it! Do it!”

Suspicious, but unable to say no to Adrien’s cheery grin, Félix quirks a brow and does as he’s told. Even without his sight, he can sense Adrien moving around him, and suddenly, there is something below his nose.

“What’s this smell like?”

More surprised than anything, Félix inhales far too deeply, nose stinging as it’s assaulted with spice and heat. He recoils, and Adrien laughs, musical and bright. 

“That’s definitely a pepper,” Félix coughs. 

“Crushed red pepper!” Adrien exclaims. “And this?”

“What’s the point of this?”

“Just sniff! And keep your eyes closed!”

Félix takes a more delicate sniff this time and doesn’t mind taking a second whiff, the lovely tart and crisp scent easing the bite of the pepper. “Strawberries.”

“Yeah! And what about this one? Last one, I promise.”

The fruity scent is replaced by fresh, minty, and earthy smells, and he smiles. “Herbs. There’s definitely some mint and rosemary there.”

“See?” Adrien asks.

Félix opens his eyes and sees several bowls lying before him. Adrien has a tendency to color outside the lines, to think outside the box, and though Félix can often follow his thought process, this one is lost on him. Undeterred, Adrien happily gestures to the red pepper and strawberries. “Red.” Holding up the bowl of herbs still in his hands, Adrien says, “Green.”

Félix doesn’t gape in astonishment, not even a little, and he most certainly does _not_ blush when he realizes his father and mother are watching him expectantly, doing very little to hide their affection and amusement. 

Adrien looks pleased with himself, and Félix begins to smile. “You know what, Ade?” he says softly. “I think I see the difference now.”

~…~

Félix is fourteen, and he wishes he was homeschooled.

No need to discuss the reason why, but it really has everything to do with the fact he is _bored_ and people—especially those amongst the elite at his prissy private school—annoy him. And that’s not mentioning the weird girl who watches him from around corners and stalks his every footstep.

If private school has taught him anything, it is that people are stupid, arrogant, and unreliable. He is not interested in making friends and he does not care much for his schoolwork. He only tolerates it because the school’s library is nothing to scoff at, and it is a very short walk away form his dojo, where he trains under one of the best sensei in Paris.  

He doesn’t tolerate it because of his homecoming reception. It really has nothing to do with the way Adrien flies down the stairs, pouncing at his legs and giving him a hug that nearly sends them both sprawling. And it _definitely_ has nothing to do with the fact Adrien’s smiles are that much broader when he walks in the door.

Not a bit.

~…~

Félix is fifteen, and he isn’t sure what to think.

He discovers her name by accident. He really would rather ignore her, and he does whatever he can to avoid her, but without meaning to, he has somehow developed a game of cat-and-mouse with her that makes school a lot more interesting than it ever was before. She stalks, he evades. He hides, she seeks. 

He won’t admit it, but they are evenly matched opponents.

Félix never really acknowledges he _enjoys_ the game they play until one day, he throws her off his tail with a pretty clever evasion, hides, and, feeling awfully smug, catches her muttering, “Nice going, Bridgette. He’s got one on you now.” 

Their game is a silent one—he has never once spoken with her, or so much as wanted to—but she is about as inconspicuous as an air raid siren. Félix knows it’s only a matter of time before her behavior catches the attention of their peers.

When it does, they are not kind about it.

He does not want to get involved. He wants nothing to do with any of them, so he lets their insults and distasteful jokes wash over him. It doesn’t matter to him what they think. Not at all. Bridgette remains oblivious as far as he can tell, and he pities her.

But then he notices some boys cornering her after class, and he somehow finds himself involved.

Bridgette is strange, sure, but she doesn’t deserve that. That’s what he tells his parents when the headmistress suspends him for fighting in the halls, at any rate. 

Once Maman and Father hear Félix’s side of the story, there is dutiful lecturing from both of them about using his martial arts training on the students at school, but Félix knows they’re not truly angry. Adrien, who really _wasn’t_ supposed to be listening through the keyhole while their parents decided Félix’s punishment, re-enters the sitting room and looks at Félix with awed eyes.

Sometime later that evening, Maman turns to Félix from her seat at the piano and suggests, far too innocently, “This girl must like you a great deal, Félix.” 

“Ooooh!” Adrien sings, leaping from the piano bench and leaning over Félix as he sprawls on the couch. “Fé’s got a girlfriend!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Adrien,” Félix retorts, pushing Adrien’s face away from his. He sits up and crosses an ankle over his knee. “No one likes me.”

“It certainly sounds like she does, son,” Father teases. His expression is every bit as sly as Maman’s. 

“Yeah!” Adrien agrees. “Of course she likes you! You’re a hero!”

Félix recalls Bridgette’s sharp tongue, her wit cutting through all delusions he once had that she was as ditzy as they come. She really didn’t need any help putting those arseholes in their place, and she told him so after he was released from the headmistress’ office. 

Called him an idiot too, but not before flashing him her oddly captivating smile, winking a stormy blue eye, and waggling her fingers as she said, “See you around.”

“I doubt that,” Félix finally says. “I’m no hero.”

Without missing a beat, Adrien mimics, “Don’t be ridiculous, Félix.” 

Félix’s face does not heat up under his little brother’s intense gaze, and he does _not_ scowl and sit up to use his book as a shield.

He doesn’t enjoy the tickle fight he is dragged into for daring to ignore Adrien either. No, not even a little.

~…~

Félix is sixteen, and he lies on his side in bed, staring out his ceiling-high windows. Rain pelts the glass, lightning flashing. His eyes itch the longer he stares without blinking, but he doesn’t have the energy to do so, much less haul himself out of bed to close his room-darkening curtains.

He hasn’t slept well in days. He hasn’t left the mansion in just as long, and he hasn’t so much as looked at the barrage of texts Bridgette sent him. If it were any other time, he might have been amused, outraged, and _impressed_ she somehow snatched his number without his knowledge. 

But right now…he can’t feel anything.

He isn’t surprised when he hears his door crack open. He’s been waiting for it. 

“Fé?” Adrien whispers. 

Turning over, Félix lifts his duvet up: an obvious invitation. Adrien doesn’t hesitate and crawls into bed with him. The seven-year-old snuggles up to Félix, burying his face into his chest. Félix holds him close, and Adrien’s hands, trapped between his body and Félix’s, fist into his t-shirt. Félix feels him trembling.

“She’s…she’s not coming home, is she?” Adrien asks, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the soft rumble of thunder.

Félix tangles his fingers in Adrien’s hair, and he digs deep within himself, searching for every last morsel of courage he has. Father refuses to see the truth, refuses to accept it, but Félix will not lie. Not to Adrien. “I don’t think so, bud.”

Adrien gasps a sob. “I miss her, Fé.”

“I do too, Adrien. I do too.”

Félix hums Chopin’s _Berceuse_ , just like Maman used to, and rubs Adrien’s back as he cries and hiccups into his shirt. His humming does not falter when his throat constricts with restrained tears, and those tears definitely don’t end up falling into Adrien’s blond hair.

Not even a little bit.

~...~

Félix is still sixteen, nearly seventeen, and he is _livid_.

He doesn’t often get angry. Anger is worthless. Anger is _useless._ Why waste time getting angry when that time can be better spent fixing and sometimes even manipulating the situation to best suit your needs or desires? 

Well, this time, he doesn’t care. He comes home from the school library (where he spends a good deal of time _not_ avoiding and somehow managing to study in the vicinity of Bridgette) to find Adrien in the clutches of a strange woman, his father nowhere in sight. The woman offers her hand, which he ignores coldly, and tries to understand what the hell is going on as she introduces herself and drones on about his and Adrien’s new schedules.

The only thing he truly hears is that Father is pulling them both from school. And all he truly sees is Adrien bowing his head, reserved and quiet…

Scared.

 _This isn’t right_.

He tells Adrien to go to his room, promising he will play whatever game he wants in a few minutes. He barely hears himself speaking, but Adrien’s face brightens as he breaks free of the woman’s grasp.

The small smile he elicits from Adrien is not enough. Not nearly enough.

The stranger follows him as he storms up the stairs toward his father’s office, her impassive and professional front shattered. Her voice is strained as she attempts to call him back. 

He continues to pretend she isn’t speaking. Who is she to give him orders anyway?

Félix bursts into the office without knocking, and Father leaps to his feet. Two small objects fall from his hands and are lost amongst the sea of paper on his desk, his grey gaze frigid and unyielding as he smoothly straightens his blazer.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Father asks. “You know my office is—”

“What am _I_ doing?” Félix hisses. “What are _you_ doing? You lock yourself up here, for _months_ , doing God knows what and throwing yourself into work, and you hire _someone else_ to look after Adrien?”

Father is unaffected, and Félix _seethes_ when he turns to the woman and says calmly, “Leave us, Nathalie.”

Félix doesn’t even wait until the woman is fully gone before he snarls, “Adrien is _seven_. He needs _you_ , Father, not some overpaid nanny who doesn’t know him and sure as hell doesn’t care about him. And you can pull me out of school, you can do whatever, but Adrien isn’t _like_ me! He needs to get out of this house every once in awhile! You can’t just—”

“I can, and I will, Félix Gabriel,” Father states, eyes flashing icily. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

“What good is this?” Félix demands. 

“That _lyceé_ has been doing nothing for you, and you know it. You have greater ambitions and far more intelligence than they know what to do with. You will excel in a more accelerated and intense program until you take your exams for university.”

“Fine. That’s fine. But what about _Adrien_?”

“He, too, is far too gifted to waste away in the local programs.”

“Oh, oh, I see now.” Félix shakes his head, chuckling darkly. “You want to keep us prisoner and groom us to be your perfect little employees, is that it? Going to put Adrien in front of the camera and me behind the desk, are you?”

“ _Enough,_ Félix!” Gabriel shouted, his composure cracking. “I want to keep you safe!”

So that’s what this was about. Félix’s gaze flickers to the family portrait propped on a file cabinet behind Father’s desk and crosses his arms. “From _what?_ Surely you don’t believe what everyone’s saying about the monster in Paris?” 

Father’s silence is answer enough. 

“The great Gabriel Agreste. Scared of ghosts and shadows,” he says. “Unbelievable.”

He is about to turn and leave when Father calls his name. There’s something soft and genuine in his tone, and Lord help him, Félix hesitates.

“I can’t lose you and your brother,” Father says. “I _won’t_. And I won’t have you speaking like that to me, either, Félix.”

Félix considers his father and sees some of the man he once knew breaking through those softening, earnest grey eyes. Rage abating, Félix’s shoulders slump, and he mutters, “Maman wasn’t attacked by rumors and make-believe monsters, Father.”

“The detectives…they have found no new leads. For all we know…” Father clears his throat. “Please understand I’m trying to do what is best for you and Adrien, Félix.”

Realization strikes Félix a little too late. “You saw this monster, didn’t you? When you went into central Paris last week?”

Father doesn't confirm or deny. Instead he says, “Strange things are happening. I just want to keep you and Adrien safe…and with the company growing as it is, I want give you _everything_ I can to make sure you can both be successful and happy in the future.”

He means it. Félix can see it as clear as day, but he also knows that can’t be all. It’s never that simple with his father.

“Tell that to Adrien,” Félix finally decides. “If you tell him _and_ you promise to let him make friends, meet other people outside of Agreste Designs and possibly have a few hobbies to call his own, I’ll go along with what you say.”

Fiddling with something on his desk, Father chuckles, his smile weak. “We’ll make a businessman of you yet, lucky charm.”

Félix leaves, feeling a strange mixture of dread, hope, and resignation, and as he passes Nathalie on his way to Adrien’s room, he knows Father will not make good on his promises tonight. He won’t make good on them tomorrow or in the next week, but Félix will be sure to remind him. Every day if necessary.

Later that night, well after Adrien and Félix play their games and eat dinner alone, Félix finds an ornate cherry-wood box, engraved with intricate designs, sitting at the foot of his bed. “What’s this doing here?” he murmurs. “Adrien can’t have…”

Curious, he picks it up and drops it, a very manly yelp escaping his lips when it explodes into green light. By the time the light fades, Félix is left with spots in his vision. He rubs his eyes ineffectively and freezes when he hears a tiny yawn.

A little black cat floats before him, and it yawns even wider when Félix curses and stumbles back. 

“Got any food?” it asks lazily.

“I…ah, what the fu—?”

“Kwami. Plagg. Nice to meet you. Now, food. Where do you keep it?” 

“Downstairs. But I…I’m sorry? _Kwami_?”

The cat— _Plagg_ the kwami, it seems—gives him a once over. “Another slow charge. Tsk.”

Rightly offended, Félix regains control of his emotions and says, “I’m not—”

“Uuuuuggggghhh,” Plagg groans. “Listen carefully. I’ll only explain this once. I’m Plagg. I’m a kwami, and I, in addition to that ring on your finger—” Félix stares down at the thin black ring and wonders how the hell it got there in the first place. “—will give you the power of destruction.”

Félix stares. “Assuming I believe you,” he says, “why in the world would I care to have this power?”

Plagg’s eyes narrow, and he flits up to Félix’s eye level. “So you will be one of _those_ Chat Noirs,” he whispers.

“What? Who in the world is Chat Noir?” 

“Uh, that would be _you._ Paris is in danger, and you were Chosen to be the next Holder of the Cat Miraculous. You were chosen to be Chat Noir.”

Félix blinks. “That’s brilliant,” he deadpans. Taking a hold of the ring on his finger, he tugs. “Great…” He tugs again. “I must be going mad…” And again. “…fucking flying cat fairy, bloody ring…” And again. “This is just—why won’t this come off?”

“It won’t budge, kid,” Plagg says, flipping onto his back and floating upside down. “Like I said, you’re one of _those_ Chats. You’re absorbing my bad luck like a sponge. That’s unfortunate. I am sorry about that. No, wait…isn’t your name Félix?”

“Er…yes?”

Plagg cackles and does several lazy loop-de-loops in midair. “Never mind. I’m not sorry. That’s hilarious.”

“I don’t understand,” Félix says. “What is going on?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you? Gouda Almighty. One last time then: you’re gonna be a superhero, and the powers I give you will have a more powerful side effect in you than anticipated, but you’ll leap that hurdle, I’m sure. The important thing here? Monsters in Paris. Ringing any bells?”

“…Did you just say _side effects_?”

“Yes! Are you paying attention? Bad luck! Don’t believe in luck? Well, ask the ring stuck to your finger. Now _focus._ Monsters. In. Paris. What do you know?”

Félix tugs on the ring one last time for good measure and then turns to glare at the kwami. “You expect me to want to talk about things that don’t exist when you say things like _powerful_ _side effects_? That’s rich.”

“Kid.” Plagg rubs his forehead. “ _Cheese_ is rich. I, on the other hand, am nowhere near rich if I have to continue suffering through your whining. Now please answer my question so we can both get a snack and maybe have a good nap afterwards, alright?”

Félix’s mind is in a whirl, but he decides he needs to settle something very important before he addresses anything else. “Don’t call me ‘kid,’ cat.”

“I’ll think about it. Now, tell me about the monsters.”

“Do I have a choice?” Félix mumbles under his breath. Sighing, he sits on the edge of his bed. “The footage they thought they captured was all ruined. I thought people who saw the thing were deluded, and with the heat wave, I can’t believe its due to anything more than severe sun stroke. Quite a few people have been hospitalized for dehydration the past few days, so there you go. What does that have to do with anything?”

“ _Everything_ ,” Plagg says immediately. “You can stop it.” 

“You mean to say…I was Chosen, to wear this ring, to be this _Chat Noir_ …to kill imaginary monsters that create heat waves.” 

“Not imaginary. And not kill. _Save_. These monsters are called akuma, and this one will not be the last one you see. The Butterfly Miraculous has awakened before its time, and its Holder has been abusing its power, infecting good people and manipulating them with magic to act on their worst emotions. With me at your side, you will have the power to help them.”

The weight of what Plagg’s saying starts to settle on Félix, and he returns his attention back to the ring. He has to get it off. It can’t be him. It _can’t._ “And why should I?” Félix demands. “I don’t want this. Choose someone else.”

“Can’t do that.” 

“I have a little brother to look after!” Félix exclaims. “And a father, too, if he keeps going at the rate he is. Even if I wanted to do this, I could get any one of us killed! And with bad luck as a side effect? No. No thank you. This family can’t handle anymore of that. I won’t do it.”

“But you will.”

“How do you know that?”

“The Guardian sees your potential, and I am inclined to give you a chance, if only because I’m stuck with you.” Plagg snickers at Félix’s frown. “You were not Chosen to sit idle. Besides, that ring is stuck until you learn.”

“Learn what?”

“That’s to be decided.”

Félix allows himself to slump backwards onto his bed. “You’re _infuriating,_ cat.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Félix laughs humorlessly. “This is madness. I’m not a hero.”

Plagg grins. “Perhaps not _yet._ ”

~…~

Félix is seventeen, and he races over the rooftops.

Ladybug is out tonight, and he’s going to catch her this time if it’s the last thing he does.

Perhaps her kwami has warned her about his bad luck, or perhaps she senses he needs her to siphon some of his bad luck away, just until he figures out how to deal with it on his own. Whatever the reason, she avoids him like the plague, and he only ever watches from afar…or invites himself to her fights, smirking when she glowers and begins to bark orders.

She must think he’s a nuisance if she goes out of her way to avoid him, though if it weren’t for him, he thinks she would have been killed ten times over.

It has been eight months since he met Plagg, eight months since he began fighting alongside Ladybug, who does no more than offer him a curt nod of thanks after each battle before darting away, long ribbons trailing behind her and earrings chirping their incessant warning.

Eight months of midnight prowls around Paris, searching out the heroine who turned his head the moment he first laid eyes on her, and he is no closer to catching her now than he was at the very beginning.

At first, he sought her out for her luck. Spending time with her eases the effects, and that is invaluable, especially now that Father has practically disappeared from his and Adrien's lives. Now, however, he realizes it’s not so much for her luck as it is for survival. It makes perfect sense, and he wonders why she hasn't been searching _him_ out, too. 

Now that Hawkmoth is becoming increasingly more powerful with every akuma he unleashes, Ladybug and Chat Noir should work together full time. Since they do fight well together, no matter what the Lady thinks, he wants to talk to her, to strategize and share some of the ideas he has, and maybe...maybe even convince her that becoming partners is their best chance to find and defeat the butterfly bastard once and for all.

The chase has nothing to do with the fact Félix is intrigued by her. Or drawn to her, addiction to her luck or otherwise. Nothing at all.

Reaching his destination, Chat crouches low, ears perked to catch even the slightest variation in the symphony of noise surrounding him. He slinks across the rooftop of the bakery where, if his study of her patrol patterns are to be believed, Ladybug is due to pass by.

That is the first thing he will need to discuss with her if she agrees to be his partner. Patterns make it easy for a predator to find its prey.

He lies in wait, tail twitching, and he is rewarded for his patience when he hears it: light footsteps sprinting toward him, delicate and swift as the night air itself.

Chat doesn't dare move. Ladybug might not have night vision like him, but she is awfully good at sensing movement before she can see it. He must rely on his hearing alone if he wants to catch her tonight.

 _There._ She touches down one roof away, and Chat prepares himself. 

 _One,_ he counts as she leaps. _Two...NOW._

Chat launches himself up, tackling Ladybug around the middle and interrupting her flight over the bakery. His grip around her waist is impenetrable, no matter how hard she struggles, and when they begin to fall, he realizes he _may_ have miscalculated the landing a bit.

Far too accustomed to such manifestations of his luck, Chat calmly extends his staff and catapults them to the next rooftop, where they somersault to a stop, Chat pinning Ladybug to the ground between his knees.

Her chest heaves as she stares at him with wide blue eyes, and he smirks when she finally recognizes him, anger and exasperation crossing her expression. 

Smug, he sits back on his heels, refusing to leave her lap. She's been known to run like a bat out of hell if he ever gets this close, and he isn't about to give up his prey so easily. "Evening, Bug."

"You..." She splutters for a moment, and he expects she will yell. He did just effectively attack her, and these are dangerous times. 

"Look," he says, interrupting whatever tirade she's seconds from delivering. "I needed to talk to you, and I—”

Ladybug giggles, and upon seeing his head cock to the side, peals of laughter erupt from her. Pushing him off, she sits up and clutches her stomach. "It's about _time,_ you dumb cat. Your idiocy really is incurable, isn't it?"

Chat is confused. So, _so_ confused. “…What?”

"Pay back of course." Ladybug winks, and she whispers, "How does it feel to chase _me,_ Félix Agreste?"

Chat's gut drops _,_ but he recovers quickly, his entire body tensing, ready to run if necessary. Ears pinned to his head and eyes narrowed, he studies her cautiously. "Who _are_ you?" he hisses.

"Oh, stop that, Kit-Chat,” Ladybug says with a roll of her eyes. “I knew it was you the moment you pulled out that staff of yours. I've seen you compete with a bo staff enough times to recognize you on the spot.”

 _Bridgette._ The revelation should hit him like a freight train, but in the end, he can’t even feel surprised. Of course Ladybug is Bridgette, and of course she led him on a merry chase around Paris just to teach him a lesson.

Well. How embarrassing.

And how undeniably... _clever._ The little smart arse. He should not have expected anything less.

“Stalker,” he teases weakly. 

“Hm.” Bridgette spins a finger around one of her pigtails. “Serves you right. You didn't even say goodbye when your father pulled you out of _lyceé,_ you know. And then you didn't answer any of my texts or calls, which is _rude._ "

 _"Terribly_ rude of me," Félix drawls. "But not nearly as rude as you stringing me along for eight months."

"Oh, boo hoo. Try two years, love. Shame I didn't beat the record you set."

A bark of laughter bursts from Chat before he can contain it. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I actually missed you."

Her eyes soften, and she takes one of his hands, giving it a squeeze. “I’ve missed you, too.”

He stares at her, warmth spreading through his chest. Realizing he is still holding her hand, he drops it and spins on his heel to face the city. Bridgette stands at his side, her expression serene. 

"At first...I wasn't so sure about this, but this—this is incredible," he murmurs. "All of it."

She doesn't need to ask what he means, and it's a freedom he never expected to have. 

It isn't long before duty calls, the ground trembling and screams piercing the night air. Bridgette adopts Ladybug's determined expression as she turns to him. "You with me?"

Chat grins, a thrill whizzing through him. "You read my mind, Bug."

~...~

Félix is still seventeen, and he stumbles down the stairs.

He enters the dining room and finds Adrien already awake. His little brother’s gaze is fixated on the television, breakfast forgotten as he absorbs the fight on screen.

"Félix, did you hear?" Adrien shouts immediately upon his entrance, eyes alight with excitement.

Félix grimaces at the noise. "I just woke up, Adrien."

"Ladybug and Chat Noir stopped another akuma last night!" his little brother exclaims. Undeterred by his elder brother's grumpiness, he pushes a mug, already full of coffee, toward Félix. "Look!"

Félix sips the coffee, admiring Bridgette’s solid roundhouse kick to the Siren’s ribs. His rush of pride is snuffed out the moment the akuma bares her filed teeth and shrieks on screen. Chills traveling down his spine, he watches the Siren try to catch Bridgette off guard, only to see himself, no more than a blur, slide underneath the creature's bowed legs and drag his claws alongside the sensitive flesh of its inner ankle. 

"So cool!" Adrien whispers. "So, _so_ cool!"

 _So, so close_ , Félix thinks. The bruises on his back throb. _Too close._ The footage, taken by an amateur in the dead of night, is grainy and punctuated by bleeps, but Félix doesn’t need a perfect image to relive the battle before him in excruciatingly clear detail. 

If he was a second slower...

"The camera man certainly has a mouth on him," Félix comments, trying to shake himself out of it. 

"That's...Félix! Not relevant! We should be thanking this guy! It's not often we get to see their fights up close like this!" Adrien grips his glass of milk, bright eyes wide and jaw slack as he watches the fight. "This is _amaz—_ hey, did you see that?"

"See what?"

"Chat Noir! I never knew he fought with a staff! Just like you, Fé!"

Félix draws his eyes away from the TV and instead watches his little brother, who sits on the very edge of his seat, looking about ready to vibrate right off it. Despite Félix's best efforts, Adrien's smiles are reserved and polite these days, and seeing him like this, uninhibited and wild with passion for his heroes...Félix can't help but hide a smile, too.

Plagg said he'd become a hero, but Félix doesn't care about that. It doesn't matter what everyone else thinks: if he can be a hero in Adrien's eyes, that’s all he could ever ask for.

He wonders when he stopped stubbornly pretending otherwise.

The footage ends with Ladybug's Miraculous Cure and a shower of Cleansing Light, and immediately, Adrien turns to him. "Can you teach me, Fé?"

Félix blinks. "I'm sorry...what?"

"Didn't you see? Chat Noir held off the akuma while Ladybug worked on a plan, and he did it with his staff! It was incredible! I can't believe you weren't watching, Fé. He was like..."

Adrien jumped to his feet, and holding an imaginary staff, he swings and spins around like a lunatic. Félix is struggling to contain his laughter by the time Adrien halts and grins. "I want to learn! Please, Félix?"

"Well," Félix hedges, making a show of surveying Adrien. The boy's face falls, ready to accept disappointment, and guilt slashes through Félix's humor, leaving nothing behind but what tastes like wet ashes in his mouth. Félix curses inwardly.

_What have you done, Father? Or better yet: what have I let you do?_

"You're not going to get anywhere fast with a stance like that," Félix says with a crooked grin, standing from the table. Adrien looks up, a cautious yet hopeful expression on his face, and Félix resolves, then and there, to make more of an effort to spend time with Adrien.

Screw Bridgette's _and_ Nathalie's schedules. And screw Father, especially. Screw Plagg and his bad luck, too. The side effects and consequences of holding the Cat Miraculous never should have encouraged him to distance himself from Adrien.

“You mean it, Fé?” Adrien asks, as if to be absolutely positive.

Félix places a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. "I'll find you a practice bo staff for your height, and we'll practice every day if you want. How does that sound?"

Adrien's smile warms the entire room.

~...~

Félix is nineteen, and he holds Bridgette in his arms.

If anyone asked how it happened, how he finally got his head out of his arse and asked her out, he would say: "I didn't."

Bridgette _tricks_ him into going on their first date by frantically calling for his help as Ladybug...and then by announcing _we’re going out_ the moment he lands on her bedroom balcony.

Three dates later, he finally gets the hint and, remembering Maman and Father teasing him years ago, feels like a fool. He asks her to dinner right in the middle of a stressful akuma battle, to which she responds, "I thought you'd never ask."

He realizes he's in love with his best friend—the only friend he ever made and the only one worth having—that very night.

The rest...falls into place more easily than he can believe, and he wonders how, in contracting chronic bad luck, he ended up getting so lucky.

Well, not so lucky. Bridgette has chosen to watch _The Princess Bride_ tonight.

"You're going to love it," Bridgette says as the movie begins to play. She snuggles against his chest, and he places a chin on her shoulder.

He shrugs. He ends up watching _her_ more than he does the movies they watch together anyway. "If you say so."

"Oh, please. If it doesn't make you laugh once, I'll eat my—” She pauses and sits up. "Adrien?"

Feeling a flash of irritation, Félix pauses the movie and shifts to look over the back of the couch. Adrien knows better than to intrude, especially when Nathalie could find out at any moment and report it to Father, and in reward for his understanding (and his silence), Félix sneaks pastries into the house. It is a nice system, one that benefits both brothers, and now that their schedules are as busy as they are with Félix in university and Adrien beginning to model more often, Félix loves having a secret he can share with Adrien.

It's a reminder of the old days. Before Maman disappeared.

"Adrien, what...?" He realizes why his little brother broke their unspoken pact the moment he sees his face. He's pale as a ghost, trembling with cold and fear, the echoes of a nightmare clinging to his subconscious.

"H-hey," Adrien murmurs, attempting a smile. He's trying to save face, obviously regretting his decision to come in. "I'm...I'm sorry, Félix. I forgot tonight was movie night, so I'll just...I'll just go. _Salut_ , Bridgette."

Félix exchanges a quick look with Bridgette and says, "No, it's okay, Adrien. Want to watch  _The Princess Bride_ with us?"

Adrien hesitates, feet shuffling. Even in the darkened room, Félix can tell his brother is blushing straight to the roots of his hair. His embarrassment causes Félix to flush too, recalling the Talk he had with Adrien when he brought Bridgette over for the first time.

"It's...It's late," Adrien stutters. "I have a fitting and a piano lesson early tomorrow mor—”

"Nonsense, Adrien," Bridgette interrupts, shifting over on the couch and patting the cushion. Félix has never loved her more than he does in that moment. "Join us! What's life without a little risk anyway?"

In the end, both Bridgette and Félix get more entertainment from Adrien's reactions than the movie itself. He _loves_ it. From beginning to end, the dork is completely entranced, laughing and clinging to every word.

He's going to quote the movie for _weeks_ , and Félix knows exactly who to blame.

After the movie is over and he kisses Bridgette goodnight, Félix escorts Adrien back to his room. "Think Father will let me take fencing lessons?" Adrien asks sleepily. 

”Perhaps if you ask nicely."

"Hm," his little brother hums. "Hopefully I won't have to _pommel_ his office door down first."

Félix isn't sure which surprises him more: the fact that he's acknowledging their father's shortcomings...or that Adrien has just...

"Did you just make a sword pun?" 

Adrien grins wickedly and burrows into his blanket.

"Why. Why would you do such a thing?"

"The Internet is dark and full of trolls."

Félix can't help but laugh. "I _never_ should have allowed Bridgette to introduce you to Tumblr."

"You forget _you_ introduced me to Reddit." 

Félix knows when he's thoroughly beaten. Chuckling lightly, he says, "Good night, Adrien."

He’s is about to leave the room when he hears, "Fé?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Félix smiles. "Anytime, bud."

~...~

Félix is twenty-two, and he waits outside Father's office.

He needs to talk to him about several things, both professional and personal, but Adrien has beat him to the punch. He is left to pace outside while Adrien appeals to Father.

Félix wishes he can respect their privacy. He really does (Not. He's curious, and he blames Plagg's influence). Being Chat Noir over half a decade has enhanced his senses, so it is really no fault of his he can hear their conversation—now argument—through the door, is it?

“—don't understand why I can’t—"

"I have already made up my mind, Adrien. I don't care if Mayor Bourgeois is going to send Chloé to school next year. You are not Chloé." 

"Yes, I'm well aware," Adrien says, and Félix smirks. His brother's mild sarcasm isn't going to do him any favors, but damn if Félix isn't proud of him for standing up for himself. "But you still haven't told me _why_. I will give up the entire idea if I can just understand why it's so awful to want to make friends!"

"You have friends."

" _One_ friend. Who is going to Collége Françoise Dupont, the best public school in the city.”

"I said _no,_ Adrien."

Félix can feel Adrien's frustration from the hall. "I can keep up with my classwork and extra lessons. I can still model and do whatever else you need me to. Haven't I proved I'm more than capable?"

"It is not a matter of capability!"

"Then _what_?"

"The matter is closed, Adrien."

“But—"

"The matter is _closed,_ Adrien."

Adrien opens the door not even seconds later, his brow furrowed, but his expression smooths when he sees Félix. Eyes dancing mischievously, he whispers, "Warmed him up for you."

"I appreciate that."

Adrien's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Good luck. I'll see you at dinner, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Father calls him in just as Adrien heads off to his room, and Félix steels himself. Despite his current internship at Agreste Designs, he cannot remember the last time he spoke with his father in person.

It's nothing new anymore.

"You never told him, did you?" Félix asks the moment he closes the door behind him. "Why you wanted this for us."

Father glares coldly. "I did not teach my sons to eavesdrop."

"Didn't teach us much of anything, did you?" Félix retorts. "After Maman disappeared..."

" _Enough!_ I doubt you came here to waste my time with this nonsense."

Félix does not care much for the dangerous glint in his father’s eyes. ”Why didn't you give him a reason?"

"How I choose to educate Adrien is none of your business, Félix." Father steeples his fingers. "Now what do you need? I have a lot of work to do.”

Félix places the Manila folder he'd been holding on his father's desk. "Some numbers in the accounts weren't adding up. I thought I'd bring it directly to your attention.”

Father ignores the envelope and studies Félix, who does not flinch under the probing gaze. "That's not all."

"Of course not. I'm moving out. Bridgette and I have already found an apartment, and we're moving in at the end of the month."

Looking unsurprised by his announcement, Father sits back in his chair. "Bridgette."

A flare of annoyance ignites in Félix's chest. "Yes, you would know about her if you cared to ask me and Adrien about our lives every once in awhile."

Father chuckles, and Félix is caught off guard momentarily. Of all the reactions Father could have had to his thinly veiled accusations, laughter had not even made it to the list. 

"You were suspended once because of a Bridgette, weren't you?" Father asks, a fond smile adorning his face. "That Bridgette?"

Bitterness and resentment is replaced by disbelief. Cautiously, he nods. "You remember?"

"How could I forget? Your mother owes me fifty euros."

Félix may have been amused if he wasn't so stunned by the sudden shift in his Father's mood. "You _bet_ on me?"

"Parents make bets on their children all the time," Father admits flippantly. "She thought Bridgette would snatch you up by the time you were sixteen. I knew it would take a little more time. She's a romantic, your mother. You, however...you are too much like me."

Whatever small tendril of hope Félix has that something can be reconciled between them is sapped into the void, and he feels sick. Sick to his stomach. 

He's wrong. Félix is nothing like him. He refuses to be.

"I'm happy for you, son," Father says, and Félix hates himself for believing him, for absorbing the words like a flower does sunshine and _thriving_ off them.

It should mean nothing, coming from a liar, coming from a man who teases and manipulates his sons' emotions, leading him to believe that, maybe, he does love them after all, no matter how often he neglects them and no matter how many promises he breaks.

It should mean nothing at all. Not to him.

But it does. It means far more than it should.

~...~

Félix is twenty-three, and he grasps Bridgette's hand as tightly as he can. 

The ring box in his jacket pocket burns against his skin, accusing and taunting him. It has been in his pocket for a month, once an exciting pressure...now a constant reminder. 

 _You weren't fast enough,_ it reminds him. _Your fault, your fault, your..._

Félix squeezes her hand tighter— _he doesn't deserve her, he never deserved her—_ and tears slip down his cheeks. His other hand trembles as he reaches forward to brush lank black locks from her forehead. Tikki, nestled in Bridgette's hair, nuzzles his hand, her blue eyes dull.

 _I did this,_ he repeats to himself. Wrapped in bandages and plaster, she is nearly unrecognizable, and the ring box burns, _burns_ away.

He was going to propose to her after their recon mission. _This time, for sure,_ he told himself. He was going to propose on the top of the Eiffel Tower, in the most cliché and obnoxious way he could, simply because she'd think it was a joke, and he wanted to see the look on her face when he pulled out the ring.

But then Hawkmoth happened, doing what he does best and taking and taking and _taking._

Chat and Ladybug were following a lead, one of the first they've had in _years._ The lead, as it turned out, was more than that, and they found themselves face to face with the villain himself. Somehow, someway, Hawkmoth tricked them, split them up, and escaped, trapping them right between a rock and a hard place.

Literally. 

Bridgette warned him in time, her tortured shriek of his name carrying over the grinding and cracking of cement and brick. He reacted on reflex, but by the time he spun around get her out of there too, she...

 _Her screams_. Dear God, her _screams_.

Ladybug is meant to be the embodiment of good luck. Chat Noir is not. It should have been him, and at this moment, he can't hate Hawkmoth any more than he hates himself.

He protected the Miraculous. He saved her life and several others' in the process. But even still, his Lady lies unconscious and injured in the hospital, and he has no one to blame but himself.

Félix almost misses the knock on the door. Plagg and Tikki zoom into their hiding spots when Adrien—of course it is Adrien—asks, "Félix?"

Without bothering to hide just how much of a mess he is, he calls quietly, "Come in."

Somehow, Adrien hears him and enters the room, a full bouquet of yellow roses and a plump teddy bear in his hands. The bow adorning the bear's neck could be either red or green or both for all Félix knows, but those spots are indistinguishable.

His gaze trails from Félix to Bridgette, and he releases a soft gasp of dismay. The tips of his roses plummet as his elbow and wrist fall slack. "Fé..." Adrien chokes, taking a step toward the bed and hesitating when he gets too close. "Bridgette...Is she...?"

Turning his gaze to Bridgette again, Félix rubs circles into the back of her hand, and he says, as emotionlessly as possible, "She'll live, but...but the doctors say she will never walk again."

He doesn't manage emotionless. Not one bit.

Adrien tosses the bouquet and bear at the end of the bed and sits right beside Félix, drawing him into a fierce, fierce embrace.

Félix struggles not to break down again, but his brother's warmth and support is too much. He doesn't deserve it, not after what he's done.

Adrien doesn't ask for explanations, and Félix is relieved because he doesn't know how he can lie to Adrien now, not like this.

He doesn't know how to tell Adrien his heroes are broken.

Adrien cannot stay for more than a few minutes, but Félix is grateful for whatever time he can spare. It isn't long after his brother leaves, with far too many promises he’d come back with food and an overnight bag for Félix, that he and Bridgette receive another visitor. 

It is an old man, dressed in a casual shirt and slacks. He stoops low over a cane, but he does not give the impression he is helpless. The man's eyes are ancient and wise, and there is a power there Gabriel Agreste would envy. Despite never having met the man, Félix knows him in an instant.

"Master Fu," he greets, and he cannot muster it in himself to feel anger, shame, or sorrow to see him now, of all times.

Plagg and Tikki emerge from their hiding places, hovering close to their charges, and Master Fu ignores Félix for a moment and approaches Bridgette's bedside. A gnarled hand reaches out to tenderly caress her cheek, and he whispers a melodious prayer in Chinese.

"Chat Noir," he finally says, turning away from his Chosen Ladybug. When Félix flinches, the old man takes a hold of Félix's free hand. "Félix Agreste. I wish we could have met under far less trying circumstances."

"As do I," Félix says, and he sounds exhausted, even to himself. Withdrawing his hand, he avoids the understanding and shared pain in Fu's mournful eyes. "I am sorry."

"What is there to be sorry for?"

"I failed."

It's the first time he's said it aloud, and Plagg and Tikki speak before Fu can. They have been waiting for it. "No, kid," Plagg says. "Never that.”

"Félix," Tikki adds, blue eyes shining with sincerity. "Listen to me now. _This was not your fault_. Don't you dare say you weren't quick enough. Don't you dare say you could have done something differently. I know you Chats. You will find every excuse to blame yourself, and do you know what my Ladybugs do? They never place the blame on their Chats. _Never_. Accidents happen, and you could not have predicted this would happen. You could not have prevented it. The only one to blame now is Hawkmoth, and if Bridgette were awake right now, she would say exactly the same thing.”

While Félix attempts to process everything Tikki said, to sort logic and emotion, Plagg settles on Félix's shoulder. Pointing a paw and addressing Fu with narrowed eyes, he says, “You couldn't wait a single day, could you? You can’t do this now. Not when they need us most."

Master Fu bows his head. "If there were any other way, I would not ask this of any of you, but we cannot delay.”

"You are here for our Miraculous,” Félix realizes aloud. “Bridge can’t…”

He can’t finish. A part of him expected this. A part of him knew, and the same part of him feels hollow, so hollow and empty it pains him. 

He and Bridgette have been Paris' superheroes for nearly seven years. He stares at the ring on his finger. Once, he abhorred the thing, but years later, sitting in a lonely hospital room, he cannot remember who he is without it...and can't even begin to comprehend who he will have to be when it’s gone.

No matter. Félix’s resolve hardens. This is their duty. He and Bridgette discussed it at length once, and he knows what she’d say to him now.

"You and Bridgette have stirred the nest," Fu informs solemnly. "Getting as close to Hawkmoth as you did today has broken the cycle. He’s now on the defensive. He needs to recuperate, rethink his strategy."

"He needs to be put down," Félix snarls, rage curling in his chest.

"We must take advantage now, while we can," Fu agrees. "And we cannot deny our new hero an opportunity to grow while Hawkmoth regains his footing." 

“Hero?” Félix repeats, catching Fu’s use of the singular.

Nodding somberly, Fu says, “Tikki and I must choose a new Ladybug together as soon as possible, but you, Chat Noir, have a choice."

"There is none," Félix says automatically. He locks eyes with Plagg. "She's _my_ Bug. I won't have another."

In a rare display of affection, Plagg cuddles into the crook of his neck. Tikki smiles sadly, and Félix realizes she will not be able to say goodbye, not to Bridgette. His heart stings as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the two earrings he kept for his Lady while she was in surgery. They sit in his palm for a lingering moment before they are handed to Fu.

"You and Bridgette," Master Fu says, his voice imbued with respect, "have been the best Chat Noir and Ladybug of the century. It has been an _honor_. And I am so proud of you both."

"Thank you, Master Fu," Félix manages to whisper.

"Now...I will give you some time," Fu says kindly. "I will return in a few minutes."

Félix stares into his lap as Fu exits the room, and Félix looks first at Tikki. He can't say a single thing to her, but he does lift his chin and nod once before she, running an antenna over his cheek fondly, flies over to Bridgette. 

Plagg, he gently pulls from his shoulder and cups in his hand. 

"Don't get all mushy on me, kid," Plagg mutters. "I don't do mushy."

Exhaling a dry chuckle, Félix says, “Neither do I. We’re infuriating like that."

Plagg sniggers and says, "I might actually miss you every once in awhile. Fu wasn't just flattering you, you know. I haven't had a Chat like you in a long time."

Félix swallows over a lump in his throat and deflects the compliment. He needs to tell Plagg now, before it becomes to difficult to say. "I expect Master Fu will come in and tell us there are rules we must follow."

"He will." 

"But I can't and _won't_ stop fighting this bastard, Plagg. If the new Chat needs us, if the new Ladybug needs us, they are _always_ welcome. Bring them to us." 

"You will not be allowed to interact with them,” Plagg warns. “They must learn on their own."

"That's bullshit. I don't care, you hear me, Plagg?" Plagg considers his charge, and Félix allows a mischievous smirk to touch his lips. “If they truly need us, we’ll be there. After all, it's about time someone decided to bend the rules, isn't it?"

Plagg grins. "I suppose it is."

Félix's smirk becomes a genuine smile, and he looks at his ring. "It's been a ride, buddy."

Plagg purrs, and while grasping the ring between the thumb and forefinger of his opposite hand, Félix asks, half-teasing, "Will I be able to take it off now?"

Floating up from his hand, the kwami looks him in the eye and says, ”You've been able to remove it for some time now."

 _Funny_ , Félix thinks as he pulls off his Miraculous, _that I didn't try to take it off again after the very first night._

_~...~_

Félix is still twenty-three, and he is back at work.

His finger feels naked without his Miraculous, but it is getting easier. It is getting better. He still turns to share a wry comment with Plagg every now and then—and feels a crushing disappointment when he remembers Plagg is no longer there—but he's healing.

Bridgette awoke a week after Fu came to visit, and it seems Tikki left her charge one last gift. Though she is paralyzed from the waist down, Bridgette is making great progress. The doctors continue to be amazed by how quickly she is recovering. 

Bridgette herself has been amazing. She absorbed every bit of news she had thrown her way with an admirable strength, a brilliant outlook, and good humor. They both had their dark days, of course, but when Félix finally proposed after Bridgette's first physical therapy session and she accepted, everything became brighter.

They could tackle the universe together, and they’d come out on top. No matter what trials they had ahead of them, they were in it together.

Needless to say, things are beginning to look up, and Félix is in a grand mood when he strolls down the halls of the Agreste Designs company building toward the financial wing. Naomi is surely going to pile work on him, but he doesn't think anything can ruin…

He pauses. Hang on.

Félix frowns and allows the door to swing closed behind him. There is a new woman sitting in the place of his mentor, whose position he was going to take over after she retired. "Excuse me?" he asks. "Who are you?"

She looks taken aback. "Henrietta, Monsieur."

The name means nothing to him. "And...what happened to Naomi? Is she ill?"

His office hushes immediately, and nearly every last person stops what they're doing to turn and look at him with wide eyes. Whispers start, and he feels out of place, lost and claustrophobic. 

The new woman answers the question for him. "She was akumatized."

Félix's blood runs _cold_. The last akuma attack was...

"Who?" Félix asks, voice void of any and all emotion.

“I—I'm sorry, I'm not sure I...?"

Eyes flashing, Félix grits his teeth. " _Who_?" he repeats slowly, struggling to maintain his composure. "Who upset her before she was infected? Who was it?"

"Monsieur Agreste," Naomi's friend Caroline speaks up. Her tone is bitter, but Félix can see she is trying to be delicate when she says, "Your father. He—”

Félix doesn't remember leaving the office. He doesn't remember calling his driver or sitting calmly in the backseat on the way to the Agreste mansion.

All he remembers is Adrien calling, then _shouting_ his name as he storms up to Father's office. Adrien tries to pull him back, tries to ask him what's wrong, to tell him to _stop_ , but Félix ignores him, barging right through the office door.

Father looks up from his work apathetically, grey eyes probing his sons before setting down the designs in his hand. When neither Félix nor Adrien offer an explanation for the disturbance, Father frowns harshly and asks, "Yes?"

Félix narrows his eyes. "It was _you_. You are to blame."

"Excuse me?" Father hisses, his tone dangerous. "You have no right to come in here, making accusations and—”

"Don't you _dare._ I have _every_ right. Don't you know what you did?"

"I have no inkling of what you're talking about, Félix."

"Then let me refresh your memory," Félix snarks. " _Naomi_."

“Ah.” Father does not look particularly disturbed or moved by the name. “You did enjoy having her as your mentor, I remember. I am terribly sorry you weren't infor—”

"I don't want your apologies. They mean _nothing_ to me!"

"Fé..." Adrien murmurs, anxiety pouring from him in waves.

"No! She was akumatized because of _him!"_ Félix’s voice rises in volume with every word, and turning back to his father, he snarls, "We were there that day, Father!  Did you know?”

Father's murderous expression falters, and his face pales. Beside him, Adrien gasps, taking a single step back.

"Bridgette nearly _died!"_ Félix shouts. "She'll never walk again because you—you can't treat people like normal human beings! Naomi had no control over herself, but _you did!_ You could have prevented all of this if you weren't so selfish, power-hungry, and _cruel_! You tear people down and then you leave them in the dirt, and you obviously don't give a damn about the consequences.”

“Félix,” Father murmurs, looking horror-stricken. “I—”

“And that's not all!” Félix interrupts. “That akuma prevented Ladybug and Chat Noir from ending things permanently. I _saw_ Hawkmoth, right before that building went down. All of this could have been _over_!”

He doesn't care that the staff can probably hear him from the ground floor. He's done, and he says so. "Maman would be disappointed if she saw the man you've become," Félix hisses. “I quit.”

"Félix..." Father attempts again.

"No! I _quit_!” Félix exclaims. “I’m done at Agreste Designs, and I’m done with _you._ I don't want to see or hear from you again, and I don't want you anywhere near me or Bridgette."

Gabriel Agreste's eyes flash. "You have no idea what you’re—”

"What about you?" Félix asks, talking over the man before him. 

Adrien starts, and Gabriel goes remarkably silent, his eyes drilling into his sons' faces. "Me?"

"Come with me," he offers. "This man is no father to either of us. He hasn't been in a long time."

Adrien's face drains of any remaining color, and as Félix looks Adrien up and down, Félix feels protective rage well inside him. The boy is unhealthily thin and exhausted, shoulders hunched self-consciously, and there is such a stark difference between this Adrien and the lively little boy Félix once knew, he is overwhelmed by his failure as an older brother. 

He needs to get Adrien out. He has to.

Adrien looks between Gabriel and Félix, eyes tortured. "I..."

"Adrien," Gabriel says softly, and in a far distant memory, Félix recalls a time that tone used to make him feel safe and warm.

Not anymore.

"Adrien," Félix begs. "Please. You can't stay here."

"I...Fé, I can't..." A tear slips down his cheek, and his gaze lands on Gabriel. "I can't _choose._ You can't expect me to choose."

Félix's heart breaks, and for the first time in his life, Félix can’t bear to look at his brother a second longer.

"He _won't_ choose," Gabriel amends sternly, and if Félix had the power of Cataclysm at his fingertips at that very moment, he would have clawed Gabriel's smug face right off. 

But he doesn’t, and he never will again, so without another word, Félix turns away. 

"Where will you go?" Gabriel dares to ask. "What will you do? 

"I won't share Agreste secrets, if that's what you're concerned about," Félix says. "I'm not like you. I won't hurt other people for some twisted purpose only I understand."

“But isn't that exactly what you’re doing?" Adrien shouts suddenly, forcing Félix to look at him. “What happened to Bridgette is awful, and I am sorry, Félix, I truly am! You know how much I love her, but this?” He waves his hand between the three of them ineffectively. “This is madness! That akuma is just as much Father's fault as it is yours! Don’t do this.”

Later, Félix will realize Adrien was trying to show him that what happened to Bridgette was an accident more than anything else, but at the moment, all Félix can feel is his own guilt rearing its head, a gut-wrenching sense of betrayal following in its wake. 

"I guess I've gone mad then," Félix states, not capable of looking Adrien in the eyes. "There's no redemption for him, Adrien. But...you were always better than me at seeing the good in people. Maybe he'll change for you." 

“Félix,” Adrien calls brokenly, “please..."

Without looking back, Félix turns again and says, "Goodbye."

He is barely out the office door when Father calls out, "You can't expect to drop everything and expect things to magically work out for you! If you walk away, your life, your career is—!”

"Ruined?" Félix finishes loudly. "Not anymore."

He would like to say he walks out of the Agreste Mansion perfectly intact, his heart, mind, and spirit cleansed and free from Gabriel Agreste's toxic presence. 

He doesn't. 

~...~

Félix is twenty-four, and he sits at the breakfast table.

Bridgette wheels into the room like the daredevil she is and spins in an anxiety-inducing circle before pressing a kiss to Félix's lips as he turns in his chair to tell her off for reckless driving.

"Good morning, Kit-Chat," she says as she withdraws, smiling broadly.

"Is it?" he mumbles. 

"Aww," Bridgette pretends to sympathize. "Coffee's not ready yet, I can see."

"On the pot now."

"Hmm, and is that with or without morning munchies?"

It takes Félix a moment in his state of morning-induced grumpiness to get her lame joke. "Good Lord, stop. Not this early in the morning. You're nearly as bad as Ad—”

He bites his tongue. It has been half a year since he quit Agreste Designs. He hasn't seen or heard from his father...or brother since. He cannot care less about Gabriel, but Adrien...His heart aches every time he thinks about Adrien, about what he said, and about how, in saying he could not choose between Gabriel and Félix, he ultimately chose Gabriel and whatever life of neglect that comes with him.

He is working on forgiving his little brother. Or maybe he's working through the fact he forgave him already and believes Adrien hasn’t forgiven _him._ He doesn't understand his feelings, having always avoided such complicated things in the past, but nonetheless, he worries. Constantly. He worries Adrien is not eating enough. He worries Gabriel is working him ragged, putting him through countless photo shoots, private lessons, and company functions. He worries Adrien never did get to go to school. 

Above all, he worries Adrien is  _unhappy_.

Worries notwithstanding, Félix himself is happier than he can remember being, and everything has worked out for both him and his fianceé. Over the past six months, Félix has thrown himself into helping Bridgette adjust to life without legs, and due to his impressive résumé, he found a job as an accountant at a prestigious law firm without breaking a sweat. 

In all that time, not a single akuma has attacked Paris. Chat Noir and Ladybug, as far as the public know, are missing.

Félix has heard his coworkers at the firm talk about it. Consensus is Hawkmoth _was_ defeated, but not before taking Ladybug and Chat Noir down with him. Félix tries not to scoff or laugh whenever he hears such things. They can't help their ignorance.

He and Bridgette are two of the very few who know Paris is a volcano fit to explode any day now, and he can only hope her citizens are prepared when she does.

"So," Bridgette says gently, pulling Félix back to the present. "Breakfast? I can make crepes?"

Félix brightens. "Need any help?"

"Nah, you sit and look pretty. I'll take care of everything.”

"You are the absolute best," Félix decides.

"I know." Blowing him a kiss, she maneuvers her way to their tiny kitchen, and without anything better to do, Félix turns on the TV...

And promptly drops the remote.

"Bridge! Get in here!" 

Bridgette rockets back into the room, and she stares intently at the screen, which shows Ladybug and Chat Noir standing tall against a giant rock monster at the very base of the Eiffel Tower.

"It's happening," she whispers. 

Félix nods and then hisses reflexively when Hawkmoth's visage forms magically over the Tower— _the coward._ Instead of focusing on whatever villainous speech he is making, Félix's attention is drawn to the faces of the new Chosen.

The cameraman has angled the shot toward them, and Félix is stunned by how _young_ they are. The new Ladybug is petite and adorable, her cheeks round with baby fat. Her eyes, however, are steel and fire. Her stance, too, is solid and confident, and as she shouts her defiance against Hawkmoth, a familiar passion rises in his chest.

When he finally forgoes studying Ladybug in favor of Chat Noir...Félix's heart takes a death-defying dive.

Blond hair, thin as a rail, the boy stares at his Lady as though she’s his sea and stars, and Félix recognizes the look. He recognizes _him_. And he can see falling him in love. Right on screen. 

Adrien always was a hopeless romantic.

 _Dear God. Holy shit. Holy_...

Fu and Plagg were both going to get an _earful_ from him if it was the very last thing he did. Fuck the rules. Fuck them both. Félix never wanted...

Ladybug takes off on screen, and after some delay, Adrien follows, a wild, excitable grin on his face. Félix hasn't seen that grin in years, not since the day his little brother asked Félix to teach him how to fight with a bo staff. Félix watches as his little brother scales the Eiffel Tower, as he...

Félix knocks his chair over in his haste to stand up, and he scrambles for his motorbike keys. 

"Félix? What are you...?"

"That's Adrien. That's my fucking little brother." 

"No," Bridgette breathes, and she squints at the screen. "It can't be..."

Félix stumbles, nearly falling as he tugs on his shoes. "Fucking. Hell. _Shit,"_ he curses.

"You're not thinking of going down there, are you?" Bridgette demands. "It's a mad house!"

"Of course I am! Fu kissed his rules goodbye the moment he Chose my brother."

"...Okay," she breathes, nodding rapidly. "Okay. I'll text you updates."

"Thank you," Félix says, swooping down to kiss her before racing for the door. 

"If you get there in time, don't get yourself involved in the fight, and be _careful,_ Kit-Chat. If you die, I'll resurrect you and kill you myself!" she calls to his retreating back.

He doesn't make it too far. Within seconds after closing his apartment door, Fu appears as if out of the walls themselves, stopping Félix dead in his tracks.

" _You,"_ Félix gasps. "You've come to stop me."

"I have."

Baring his teeth, Félix says, “That is my _brother!_ I _never_ wanted him involved in this! He shouldn't have to suffer like we have!"

Bridgette, bless her soul, heard her fiancé's frigid tone and flings open the door to their apartment. Peeking her head out, she curses under her breath in English before reverting to French and ordering, "Get. Both of you. You can't do this in the hallway."

They are ushered back into the apartment, where Félix's eyes automatically latch onto the TV. Adrien and his Ladybug are at the top of the Tower, and Félix has only seconds to think _all Ladybugs must be absolutely insane_ before she is plummeting toward the ground, swinging her yoyo to capture the akuma and tackling a civilian midair simultaneously. Adrien is no better, launching himself from his staff like it’s a diving board and somehow grabbing a hold of the akuma victim's wrist as he falls through the air.

Félix has performed stunts just as, if not more, foolhardy and dangerous, but they never felt that way, not until now. Watching them is a different monster entirely. He loses all strength in his legs as the two new heroes help the civilians to the ground, and he sinks into a chair, panic constricting his chest. 

It was ridiculous to think he would have made it in time, he realizes, but that doesn't matter because Adrien is _safe_. Thank God, he's safe. He's...he's saved the day. He's Chat Noir, and he's saved Paris.

"I am most surprised the magic protecting Adrien's identity is useless against you, Félix," Fu begins, and Félix turns a ferocious glare toward the Guardian. "But I suppose I shouldn't be. Even after all these years, I am learning new things about the Miraculous."

Breath rasping in his ears, Félix turns a disbelieving look toward Fu. ”You were never going to tell me. Are you absolutely _insane_?”

“Félix!” Bridgette scolds.

"Adrien was Chosen," Fu says calmly, “much like you were, Félix. And he needs to grow into his own hero."

 _But he’s_ been _one,_ Félix wants to say. _He’s always been one_. 

”What he needs is someone on his side of the court!” he ends up countering. “I can't leave him to his own devices, not without knowing he's been trained and knows exactly what he's getting into!"

Fu smiles mysteriously. "From what I gather, your brother was only too eager to accept the responsibilities and consequences." 

Félix recalls the bright gleam in Adrien's eyes as he watched some of Chat Noir and Ladybug's fights. He recalls how it feels to be _trapped_ in that house and how it felt to run across the rooftops, and he feels a conflict of emotion tumbling through his chest. "Of course he did," he mutters, all too aware of the irony.

"And unless I am mistaken, he has trained with both a bo staff and a saber."

"He's got you there, Félix," Bridgette says. "You trained him yourself."

"Who's side are you on here?" Félix asks her. "You can't deny it was difficult sometimes— _crushing_ at others. You can't deny you wish you had _someone_ there."

Bridgette's blue eyes soften. She knows exactly what he's talking about. She was raised by her aunt and uncle here in France after her parents died tragically when she was eleven. Her relatives never wanted children, and on top of that, they were socialites, even more absent from her life than Gabriel Agreste was from Félix’s. "I had you,” she says.

"Not always,” Félix reminds her. “What if he gets hurt? I can't let him lie alone in that empty house and nurse his own injuries. I _won't_ let that happen to him, not when he thinks I've already abandoned him." 

Shit. The moment the words leave his mouth, Félix has a violent epiphany. He fucked up. He fucked up big time. Why hasn't he tried to contact Adrien before now? He picks up the keys he dropped. “What am I still doing here? I need—I need to..."

"Stop and think for a moment," Fu finishes gently. "Think about your reaction to watching your brother fight just now." He pauses, ancient eyes searching his previous Chosen's face. “There will come a time he and Ladybug need you both. There will come a time when you need them, too. But for now…for now both of them must grow and learn on their own. They must discover themselves and each other, and they must make their own mistakes, and be able to fix them, without interference. Without learning how to do these things on their own, how can they expect to do what must be done? How can they expect to explore themselves and find their own paths?"

Félix hates himself, but he finally understands. It tears him apart as an older brother, but in appealing to his inner Chat, Fu has reminded him of the magic, of the thrill, of the man he became because of the power he was granted.

He can't deny Adrien the experience. He can't, no matter how much it hurts him to stay away.

"I understand," Félix says begrudgingly. "But _I'll_ decide when 'the time comes.' Not you."

" _We'll_ decide," Bridgette corrects, looping her arm through Félix's. "We'll watch them, and we'll wait."

"Of course," Fu relents. 

"They fight well together," Bridgette remarks. "They are a good pair."

Fu hums. "Our new Ladybug has much potential. She will rise above the stars." Turning his attention to the TV, he says, "And your brother is a special one, Félix. Your opposite in as many ways as he is your equal."

 _My better, too._ Despite himself, a small smile touches Félix's lips. "I don't need ancient magic or a kwami to have told you that."

"I don't suppose you would," Fu murmurs thoughtfully. "But then again, whether you knew it or not, he was _destined_ to be Chat Noir. He was raised as such, after all, and with your family...well, I was not surprised when he passed my test and Plagg approved of him."

There is something in Fu's tone Félix catches right away. "With my family?"

"All in due time," Fu says, standing slowly and turning to leave. "Your stories aren't over yet, Chat Noir and Ladybug. As some say: _everything happens for a reason_."

~...~

Félix is twenty-five, and he doesn’t know what to say.

During the last year, when Félix and Bridgette weren't working, they were researching. When they weren't researching, they were stalking. When they weren't doing either of these things, they were watching and studying Ladybug and Chat Noir's fights, following clues, and theorizing.

Félix knows of every injury Adrien has sustained. He knows most of the akuma victims and their stories. He knows Hawkmoth is trying a new approach, creating less vicious akuma, ones less susceptible to losing control. Simply by watching Chat Noir and Ladybug’s interactions on the news and in interviews, he knows Adrien's Bug insists they keep their identities secret, and he knows the very moment the Reveal happens. He knows when they begin to find their rhythm again and when they start dating, and he knows when they begin to search for the previous Ladybug and Chat Noir. 

Most importantly, however, both he and Bridgette follow their progress well enough to know everything they do, and they fit together the same puzzle pieces…at what must be the same time.

Bridgette looks up from the blurry picture of the last Peacock Miraculous Holder, unearthed from an abandoned supernatural conspiracy blog and reposted on the Ladyblog, and as dates, numbers, and coincidences pile on top of each other, clicking into place, they stare at each other, hoping beyond hope they are wrong.

They aren’t.

Hawkmoth...Father... _Maman_. Félix doesn’t know what to say, and in the end, he doesn’t have to say a single thing.

 _“Go,”_ Bridgette chokes.

 _It’s so obvious now_.

Tears blur in his eyes as he guns his motorbike. 

_It’s so fucking obvious._

He kicks himself for never seeing it before, for never once suspecting… The timeline of events, all fitting together as snugly as a key in a lock, cycle through Félix's head.

_This whole time…_

Félix is lucky he has the presence of mind to approach the Agreste Mansion with caution, and after hiding his bike, his body leads him through the motions of a young, inexperienced Chat Noir who detransformed far too soon, forgot the cheese to feed his bottomless pit of a magical cat, and needed a way back into his house.

It’s as easy as he remembers it.

While Félix waits for Adrien to show, his eyes are glued to his phone. He prowls the news websites and prays Bridgette won’t send him bad news. 

His suspicions are confirmed an hour after crawling in through the window. According to the Ladyblog, there was a fight. An entire warehouse was destroyed, and an immense _cloud_ of luminous butterflies was seen swarming the area. And Chat Noir...

Chat was last seen carrying Ladybug away from the wreckage, limping and injured...before _disappearing._

Félix has never been so afraid in his life. And that’s counting the hours he spent outside Bridgette's operating room _and_ the time he saw Adrien erased from existence.

He texts Bridgette, wears a rut into Adrien's carpet, and texts Bridgette again, trying to remind himself that no news is good news. No identities were revealed and no stories leaked about the model Adrien Agreste ending up in a hospital, so it can't be what Félix fears it may be. Regardless, he continues to pace and tries to believe they are okay, that they are both...

The window creaks open suddenly, and Chat Noir slinks in. One clawed hand braces his shoulder, the bloodstained leather shining in the moonlight, and his chest heaves.

Félix knows he's probably going to scare the hell out of Adrien, but he doesn’t hesitate a single moment. He emerges from the shadows, reaching for Adrien and pulling him into a tight hug.

Adrien is rigid as a board, and Félix whispers, ”Don't scare me like that again, Adrien.”

Recognizing his voice, Adrien relaxes into Félix’s embrace. "Fé?" he breathes in disbelief, and without waiting for an answer, he burrows his head into Félix's shoulder and digs his claws into his jacket.

"I'm sorry," Félix mumbles over and over again. "I'm so sorry, Adrien. I’m so sorry.”

Adrien's Miraculous beeps, and in a flurry of familiar green light, Plagg tumbles from the ring. It’s silver and bulky and looks nothing like it used to, but Félix decides it fits his little brother. 

Adrien, stiffening again in his arms, gasps and jumps back, eyes wide with horror. "I...um...I can..."

Félix's eyes are drawn from the ring to the dried blood coating Adrien's clothes. "Plagg," he commands, ignoring Adrien's stammering, "Get the first aid kit."

Adrien stares incredulously as Plagg does exactly what he's told and then turns his stare toward Félix. "You..." he whispers. He looks like he's seconds away from hyperventilating, and as Félix coaxes him to sit and orders him to _take your shirt off, you idiot,_ a simultaneously wry and shy smile works its way onto Adrien's face. He looks up and Félix and doesn't even have to ask. "Of course you were."

Adrien continues to stare at Félix unblinkingly as he and Plagg work together to clean and stitch Adrien's shoulder, which should have been treated _immediately_ , but Félix holds his tongue, knowing very well Adrien would have done everything to take care of his Lady before himself.

And he wouldn't have done any differently, so he has no room to talk.

He can't know what Adrien is thinking, so as he works, he waits. He isn't disappointed when Adrien asks, "You didn't know, did you?"

Félix's hand trembles, and he lowers the gauze until he can steady it again. "Not until tonight."

"But you knew about me." 

It isn't a question, but Félix nods. 

"You've been watching over us," Adrien says, eyes trained on Félix. "Haven't you?"

Félix finishes tending to his brother's shoulder and says, "Since the very beginning, Ade. _Always_." 

Exhaling heavily, Adrien nods a few times. “You’ve been remarkably silent,” Adrien says, addressing Plagg. “You have nothing to say about all this?” 

"Not a thing."

Both Adrien and Félix raise a disbelieving brow, and Plagg closes his eyes. "Fu and I didn't choose you because of Félix, Adrien,” he says, his voice free of sarcasm and levity. “We didn’t choose _either of you_ because of your mother. We did not know about your father until tonight.” He opens his eyes. “You might not believe me. You might not even believe Tikki when she tells you the same thing I did. No matter what you wish to believe, believe this at the very least: you are both Chat Noirs to the core. _Never_ doubt that.”

For a moment, Félix is stunned and more than a little embarrassed. Even now, Plagg can read his insecurities like a book…and put them to rest just as easily as he could close its cover. A sidelong glance at Adrien proves he’s not the only one.

 "Thank you, Plagg," Félix says simply, stroking the kwami's head between the ears. 

Plagg blinks at him once, an acknowledgement, and then scurries to Adrien, whose shoulders are beginning to shake. Burrowing his hand in his hands, he whispers, "I'm so sorry, Félix. I'm so sorry. You left, and I didn't...and even after you left, I..."

"No," Félix says sternly, shifting on the bed and placing a hand on his brother's back. “I left you with this mess. There is _nothing_ for you to be sorry for.”

"But you were _right_ ," Adrien says. "You were _right._  He's... _God_. He's been trying to kill us both, Félix. For _years_. First you, then me..."

"Don't think about it," Félix suggests. "I'm trying not to think about it like that."

"How can I not think about it like that?" Adrien demands, springing to his feet. "Is it any better to think about how he's hurt hundreds, probably _thousands,_ of people? _”_

“It's not."

"How could he  _do_ this?" Adrien asks. "There has to be a reason. There must be."

"Whatever it is, it doesn't erase what he's done," Félix says. “It’s all on him, and I won't be a bit sorry when he realizes both of his sons were in his crosshairs." Something occurs to him, and he grabs Adrien's wrist. "He doesn't know, does he?"

Adrien shakes his head. "I got us out in time." 

"Good. We have the advantage now. I’ll—”

"Oh my God," Adrien interrupts. " _Bridgette_! That's why you—And tonight, Marinette…!"

When he cuts himself off, Félix ignores the flare of hatred igniting in his chest and focuses on _Adrien,_ asking, "Is she okay?" 

"She'll be okay," Adrien breathes. “She’ll be okay. Bridgette’s okay too, isn’t she? I never did…Oh, God, I never…”

“She’s fine,” Félix soothes. “She’s waiting for us. Are _you_ okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m just peachy.” He’s obviously not, and he suddenly groans and runs his hand through his hair. “No. No, I lied. I sure hell won't be okay when Mari realizes I've just totally blown her identity, even if it is to _you_."

Félix chuckles, then laughs. After giggling a little, Adrien joins in, and before they know it, they're leaning on each other, feeding off of each other's hysterics, and they can't stop until they're well past laughing. It’s a long time before they are able to control themselves, and sometimes, snickers, interspersed with shaky exhales and sniffles, break the deep, contemplative silence they’ve fallen into. Félix’s eyes sting with tears, and he can’t hold himself together anymore. He wraps an arm around Adrien, and Adrien, too, grasps him like he’s the last piece of driftwood in a vast ocean.

Together, they mourn their parents. They mourn the childhood they lost, and they mourn everything they’ve lost because of this twisted, twisted story they’ve become a part of.

"I can't stay here," Adrien murmurs into his shoulder, breaking the silence.

"As if I would let you."

Adrien shakes his head. "I can't believe this,” he mumbles. “This is too much. Far too much." 

"We'll get through it." Withdrawing from his brother’s embrace sheepishly and nudging his uninjured shoulder, Félix tries to lighten the mood and adds, "Bridgette, by the way, has been dying to meet your Marinette. She won't shut up about her, actually. I think they’ll get on well.”

Bringing up their significant others again has opened a dam within Adrien. The look in his eyes…Félix is reminded of a simpler time, when Adrien idolized Chat Noir and Ladybug and watched every akuma battle with stars in his eyes. 

"That's why we've been looking for you, you know!" Adrien exclaims, his smile blinding. "Mari's going to _flip._ We have so much to tell you—‘Chat and Ladybug' you and 'Félix and Bridgette' you—and so much to _ask!_ Oh!” Adrien grips Félix’s arm. “Oh, Félix, you're not going to believe this! I...I got to go to school!” His words are tumbling from his lips so fast Félix can hardly keep up, but he’s smiling, and he can’t stop. "That's where I met Mari, and now I have Nino and Alya—she runs the Ladyblog, and she’s been positively brilliant—and a whole classroom of people who _see_ me and—”

"How did you manage it?" Félix interrupts.

“By slipping away from Nathalie and running away, of course," Adrien says with a sly grin that reminds Félix so much of Maman he nearly forgets to breathe. "I think Father found keeping me away more dangerous than allowing me to go in the end. But now..." His face falls. "I realize he probably wanted me even more busy...so that he could begin to..." Adrien's voice dies, and he swipes at his eyes again. “Fuck. What are we going to _do_ , Fé?"

Félix studies his brother for a moment before saying slowly, "Do you remember, when you were little, you could never wrap your head around the idea that I was colorblind?"

"What?" Adrien chuckles weakly.

"It's true. You would draw me all these pictures and point out _everything_ that was red or green. You'd try to explain the two to me, too. You tried everything you could think of because for some reason, it was utterly offensive to you that I couldn't see what you saw. You wouldn't give it up, and eventually...you found a way for me to tell them apart."

"...How?"

Félix smiles. ”You had Maman cut some strawberries and pulled out the red crushed pepper and just about every other green herb we had in the pantry. And then you had me close my eyes and tell you what I smelled."

Adrien's eyes dance, and he grins his wild, impossibly wide grin. "Yeah?"

"I nearly burned out my sinuses smelling the pepper," Félix teases, "But after all that, I finally saw the difference."

Plagg, sitting between them, looks up at his two Chats and snickers. "Dorks."

"Dorks...but _clever_ dorks. Resourceful ones." Félix and Adrien lock gazes. "What are we going to do?” Félix repeats. “It'll be difficult, for both of us, but between you, me, and our Bugs, both of whom _kick arse,_ we'll do what we could never do apart: stop him for good this time."

"No," Adrien's eyes harden, and there's a determination, a confidence, that is reflected back at Félix. "We're not just going to stop him. We're going to _save_ him. I...I can't believe there isn't some good left in him. There has to be more we don't know."

A part of Félix resists, but then again...Ever since Adrien was Chosen, Hawkmoth has been focused on capturing, rather than attacking _._ Bridgette noticed it first, thinking it was far too unusual to be anything good, but maybe it _wasn't_ a trick. Maybe he wasn't trying to lead Ladybug and Chat Noir into a false sense of security. Maybe... 

Maybe it's time he starts trying to see what Adrien sees.

"Then we'll save him," Félix says. 

Adrien's eyes shine. “And we’ll find out what _really_ happened to Maman," he adds.

 “You better believe we will." The brothers share a grin and grip each other's forearms, pulling each other to their feet. "Now let's get out of here. We have some planning to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is unbeta'd. I did my best to catch my mistakes, but since this beast is looooong, I most certainly did miss some. If you see any of said mistakes, do feel free to let me know!


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